


Powder

by what_alchemy



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alien Biology, M/M, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-06
Updated: 2011-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_alchemy/pseuds/what_alchemy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk gets a face full of sex pollen on an away mission. He’s ready to take matters into his own hands when the object of his secret affections makes an offer of assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Powder

As Jim performed the time-honored hard-on waistband tuck of fifteen year old boys everywhere and gingerly made his way from the briefing room back to his quarters, he really considered demoting Sulu’s ass straight down to ensign and giving him janitorial duties for the rest of time. It was not, he supposed, so much Sulu’s _fault_ as it was… totally his damn fault. Jim nodded distractedly to crew members who greeted him in the corridors — the, long, unending corridors that seemed suddenly crowded and over-lighted — and hoped that his torpid torpedo wasn’t some kind of beacon that everyone could see from thirty paces. At the very least, Jim thought Sulu deserved some kind of new, humiliating assignment. Collecting Keenser’s stool for proper radioactive waste management, for example, or organizing the upcoming _Enterprise_ talent show scheduled for the long haul between quadrants when a great heap of nothing would be happening for two and a half months. And if Jim was a little bitter that Sulu had managed to avoid the face full of “compatibility powder” himself, he was a lot bitter that Sulu hadn’t bothered to warn his hapless captain against wandering into a field full of the mind-bending flowers that he had to thank for this manly meat missile currently busting the seam of his Starfleet trousers. But it was the lips tucked between his teeth, ineffectually suppressing a maniacal grin, that were going to get Sulu in a world of toxic turds and warbling yeomen.

“It’s not so bad, Jim,” Sulu had said as they prepared for beam-up, voice wavering with the force of his smothered laughter. “You’ll rub one out and be right as rain.”

“I’ll have your ass for insubordination, Sulu,” Jim had hissed back, and Sulu just laughed. That, among other things, was one pitfall of the meteoric rise to captaincy - one’s subordinates also tended to be one’s dorm mates, and may or may not have seen one in full drag, or passed out in a pile of beer bottles with a penis drawn in permanent marker on one’s face, or in any number of other uncaptainly situations just last year.

In the briefing room, McCoy swore at him, Spock arched a delicate eyebrow, linked his hands behind his back and stared resolutely at Jim’s forehead, Scotty had to leave the room to get his breath back, and Uhura flattened her lips and sent Sulu a withering glare. Jim’s brain told him to kiss her for the show of solidarity, but the bruiser in his pants had its single, discerning eye on the tallest, sexiest, most powerful, most pointy-earsingest _male_ in the room — not a new development, certainly, but one that seemed so much more _insistent_ and _inconvenient_ with all the chemicals coursing through his brain and making his dick pulse madly in its confines. Sinking into a chair, Jim scrubbed his eyes with two tight fists then trained his gaze on McCoy, careful not to let his eyes stray to the distracting figure of his first officer.

“Is this shit gonna make me do something I don’t want to do?” Jim asked. He’d read the protocols on sex pollen — and none of it sounded like a consensual good time.

McCoy grimaced, but it was Sulu who piped up.

“All it does is up your dopamine, serotonin and norepinephrine levels. It doesn’t lower inhibitions or intoxicate you — well, not any more than natural hormones are capable. It basically just makes you horny for the thing that gets you off best.” Sulu blushed then, the asshole. “Sir,” he added.

Jim groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes.

“How do you even _know_ this shit?” he asked. He balled his hand up and sent Sulu a glare. “And why the hell didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“It’s just like an Andorian flower I studied in xenobotany and you wandered in like an excited puppy before I could—”

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” McCoy cut in. “You.” He pointed at Sulu. “What’s the antidote to this?”

Sulu looked sheepish. “A bunch of orgasms?” He raised his shoulder in a tiny shrug.

McCoy made a guttural sound and shooed him out of the briefing room. Then he turned around and his eyebrow spiked upward as if he were surprised that Spock and Uhura were there at all.

“Well?” he barked. “Don’t you people have something better to do?”

Jim refused to watch the very fine view when Spock left, not having uttered a word. Uhura hovered beside Jim’s chair for a moment. Jim blinked up at her, and her beauty, always dazzling, was now just a distant observation and sent no pleasant tingles to his balls. Jim didn’t want to contemplate what that meant.

“I should have told you before you went down,” she said, brows drawn together in an expression of regret. “It was in the welcome literature we got before assuming orbit, but it said they used the pollen in rituals, not that it was just around waiting to be inhaled by whoever happened by.”

Jim saw McCoy purse his lips and cross his arms in front of himself.

“What are you saying?” McCoy asked. “What kind of rituals? Is this dangerous?”

“Oh, no, no,” Uhura said with an emphatic wave of her hand. “Just, before letting couples get married, there’s a ceremony to test compatibility. The couple is dosed with the powder, as its called, and if they can’t fulfill each other’s most basic sexual desires, they part ways.” She smiled a little. “I thought it was neat, actually, when I first read it. It must save them a lot of grief — there’s only a six percent divorce rate down there, according to the packet.”

Jim groaned again. His most basic sexual desires… hadn’t been sated in a long, long time. The table, at least, was hiding how neat his penis thought it all was, and before he could say anything to Uhura, McCoy ushered her out the door and then rounded on him with a wagging finger.

“You,” he said, “are off duty for the next twenty-four hours. I assume you can handle the situation without your friendly country doctor’s advice on the subject.” His eyebrow threatened to crawl clear into his hairline when he jerked his chin to indicate the problem in Jim’s pants. Jim buried his face in his hands and mumbled out something unintelligible in the affirmative, and then he was alone in the briefing room, a million miles from his own quarters.

Seven minutes later, Jim finally made it to his quarters without having poked anyone’s eye out or incurred a sexual harassment lawsuit, and when the doors slid shut, he undid his pants with a loud moan of relief. He shucked his clothes altogether, called out his lock command and knelt before his closet to rummage through the duffle bag he had stuffed into a corner. The position left his ass in the air, and for a moment he let his eyes flutter shut. He reached back behind himself and rubbed two fingertips over his hole and groaned at the sparks of electric desire thrilling up his spine. He shook his head as if to clear his vision and finally unearthed the mess of sex toys at the bottom of the duffle. He snatched up his favorites and hurried to his sleeping area.

They spilled from his hands onto his bed, an impressive array: a pair of tapered butt plugs one bigger than the other; a long, slim, sweetly curved vibrating dildo in Orion flesh tone; a shorter, thicker dildo with a bulbous head modeled after the genitals of a humanoid race from Jim’s very first first contact mission (it was a sentimental item as well as a rollicking good time); and finally two weighty silicone balls on a string. He straightened and surveyed his bounty. His rampant hard-on bounced against the muscles of his stomach, impatient and aching, and Jim grunted at the relief when he wrapped a hand around the base. The sight of his toys sent a fission of lust up through his asshole, and a wild thought blew through his brain that it wouldn’t be enough, that even if he stuffed them all up his ass at the same time, it’d be no adequate substitute for the hot, slick slide of a real cock — a half-Vulcan cock, whatever that looked like. He’d imagined it a billion different ways: a blossoming flower; standard human but prehensile and flushed green; a knot of multiple tangled mini-cocks; a small, sweet curlicue; a third hand with clever, maddening fingers, and on, and on, and on until he’d come in a shock, sparks of light playing behind his eyelids.

Jim dug around in his nightstand for his bottle of lube and deposited it among his loot, then hunkered down on his spread knees. He made a fist around his shaft with one hand and began to pump. With his other hand he cupped his balls, rolled them, tugged lightly. Long, breathy groans began to fill the silence of his cabin, and Jim’s asshole began to throb, lamenting his neglect. Jim sighed and pressed his head and shoulders into the bed. He shoved two of his fingers into his mouth and reached behind to rub them over his ass in appeasement. He moved them with gentle pressure in a circular motion, the delicate tissues quivering against his fingertips. He breached his hole with just the tip of a finger and every nerve in his body lit, taut and thrumming with arousal. Involuntarily he gasped out Spock’s name.

Then, on the bedside table, his personal comm device went off.

Jim grunted and fell to his side. “Goddamnit!” He slapped his comm and tried to modulate his voice, but he knew the strain was there, sure as the blood in his cock. “Off-duty, CMO’s orders, call later!” he called out. He just hoped he didn’t sound as hysterical as he felt.

“Jim.” Oh God, it was Spock. That calm, deep voice that lit a fire in his balls and in his ass, that curled around his mind and heart and cock like rich, smooth chocolate, dark and enticing. Jim’s cock produced a generous dollop of pre-cum and a hot huff of breath escaped his throat. “I apologize for the… inconvenient timing.”

“Can’t this wait, Spock?” Jim asked, voice tremulous. He jerked at his cock, helpless against the thrill of hearing Spock’s voice and knowing he knew what Jim was doing. Nonetheless, he added, “Kinda busy right now, is the thing.”

“I realize that, Jim, but I thought perhaps…”

“What?” Jim practically begged. He knew his voice was tinged with desperation — for Spock to put him out of his misery and leave him to his pathetic fantasies and trove of toys that would never, ever be up to the task of comparison to the real thing.

“I — I have poor timing. I am occasionally too cautious, and now you are suffering.”

Jim almost sobbed in frustration. His cock jerked in his death grip. _It_ didn’t care that Spock was an unwitting participant in the proceedings, but Jim did. “What are you talking about? Please Spock — I just need to do this right now, and we can talk later, okay?”

“Jim. You misunderstand. I am offering to… ease your plight. If you would allow me entry.”

Jim’s eyes crossed at the sudden realignment of the universe, at the double entendre, at Spock’s low, lush voice.

“Fuck.”

“If that is what you desire, yes.”

“Oh my God, Spock!” Jim strangled his rampaging cock with both hands to keep himself from spurting like a geyser. “You can’t just say shit like that! And — and what are you even _talking_ about? This doesn’t fall on your list of duties, you know, you’re not on the hook for this.”

There was a silence during which Jim squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in a pillow. He pressed his fingertips to his asshole as if in apology. Then, he heard Spock’s quiet voice again, hesitant.

“I was under the impression that you harbored feelings of a romantic and sexual nature for me,” he said. “Clearly I have been incorrect in my observations. Forgive me, Captain.”

Jim’s eyes snapped open, but he heard the line go dead. He slapped his comm again.

“Hey! What? Spock, I’m not functioning at warp nine over here, can you please explain what you just said?”

There was another silence and Jim promised to punch himself right in the face when this whole thing was over for being such a raging _fuck-up_ at exactly the wrong time.

Finally, the velvet rumble of Spock’s voice came through the comm. “I have observed that in my presence you exhibit the symptoms of a human with a romantic and sexual attachment. Your heart rate increases, as does your pheromone production. Your rate of smiling increases by fifteen percent, and during off-duty hours, your attention is on my person forty-eight percent of the time provided we are in the same general vicinity. You prefer my company and conversation to that of others.”

Jim burned then with both arousal and humiliation. “Why are you telling me this?” His hard-on almost flagged. Almost.

“I was… waiting,” Spock said. After a pause, Jim heard him take a breath. “For the proper time to confess to you that I felt the same, though opportunities came and passed and still I said nothing.”

Jim’s heart hammered and he felt warm all over. The throb in his cock and ass demanded attention. He sank back into the bed on his side and lifted his leg to circle his asshole with spit-slick fingers again.

“Why’d you let them pass?” he asked, barely stopping himself from panting into the comm.

“I had calculated a 7.24% chance that I was wrong, and dared not risk it.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jim said softly. He smothered a moan when his middle finger slid through the first tight ring of his ass up to the second knuckle.

“Jim,” Spock said, and Jim’s breath left him at the urgency in his tone. “May I come and assist you in resolving your current dilemma?”

“God, yes,” Jim said. “Yeah, come over.”

Spock entered Jim’s quarters through their shared bathroom in less than twenty seconds and _great steaming Zeus’s cock he was naked_. And _hard_. Jim gaped at him, finger still firmly up his own ass, and he watched Spock stop at the foot of his bed to take in the sight of him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Jim watched him in return, and turns out, his zillion fantasies weren’t just pale in comparison, they were like someone put the stick figure drawings he’d mastered when he was three next to a Michelangelo. Spock was pale porcelain, the trademark of a sunless, deep-space assignment, but instead of colorless or sallow, he looked creamy and healthy with just a hint of lush green undertones. He’d been hiding deceptively broad shoulders beneath those science blues, and gorgeous arms lashed with sleek muscles Jim knew held three times his own strength. Over the lean musculature of his chest and abdomen there was a luxuriant thicket of black hair, smooth and soft-looking and begging to be tugged by Jim’s greedy fingers. Narrow hips gave way to lean thighs, and from between them came the upward curve of Spock’s turgid cock: it seemed to unfurl in three bulbed segments, tapered at the tip for ease of entry, each knob thicker than the one that came before it. Jim thought of that _perfect_ cock pushing into his body and a whimper escaped his throat before he could tamp down on it. He pulled his finger out of his hole, put his leg in the air and spread his asscheeks apart in invitation.

Spock seemed to snap from his trance and he moved forward, hands outstretched. But he stopped again, eyes bright and avid. He fixed them on Jim’s.

“Spock?”

“I have desired this,” he said, “for 6.2 months.”

Jim set his leg back down and pressed a hand to his cock to placate it. His breath came ragged. He stared up at Spock with a questioning look. “So what is it?”

“I do not wish this to be… a single assignation. Nor do I wish it to be something you regret having done once your body is free of the compatibility powder.”

Jim blinked past the haze of lust and took a real look at Spock — his powerful body, his eager cock. His placid face with the burning eyes. Jim’s own dick twitched and lolled wetly against his stomach, but the real movement was in his chest, where his heart swelled.

Wordlessly Jim held out two fingers. Spock caught them in his hand, ran his own fingers up the length of them, then gripped Jim hard, palm against palm, fingers tangled. He knelt on the edge of Jim’s bed and pulled Jim up to meet him for a hot, dizzying human kiss that made Jim’s universe shrink to that point of contact.

Spock pulled away and cast a pointed look at the sex toys strewn on the bed beneath Jim’s legs. When Jim’s eyes uncrossed, he saw Spock arch an eyebrow.

“Would that have been sufficient?” He gestured at the assortment.

Jim smirked and eyed Spock’s own equipment. “Not after getting a load of that piece. You gonna stick it in me or what?” Jim reached out and gripped Spock’s dick, marveling at the heat, the weight, the _shape_.

Spock’s breath hitched, but his eyebrow ticked upward by another degree. “I had hoped to achieve more finesse than simply ‘sticking it in’ implies, Jim.”

Jim laughed and tugged Spock down for more hot kisses, their bodies pressed together. Spock pushed most of the toys off the bed and settled between Jim’s legs, hips in tension with Jim’s, cock on cock. Spock broke the contact with a moue of impatience and dislodged something from under himself and held it up. Dangling from his hand were Jim’s anal balls. Jim tried to look innocent, but really, that hadn’t worked since he was six and hadn’t yet discovered sex or firecrackers. Spock’s expression slackened, eyelids falling to half-mast, and one corner of his mouth curled upward in a tiny, sly smile.

“Turn over,” he growled, voice deeper than Jim had ever heard it before. Jim gaped and his cock gave a mad leap, then he scrambled to comply, hiking his ass into the air in presentation. He heard Spock’s rumble of appreciation behind him before he felt hot palms sweeping over the swells of his ass. “Perfect,” he heard Spock murmur, and Jim groaned and buried his face in the pillow when his eyes lost focus. “Is this your deepest desire?” Spock asked him in a quiet, conversational tone. “My attention on your backside? Answer me.”

“Yes!” Jim gasped, rocking back into the contact. “Yes, yes, yes, _please_.”

“I live to serve,” Spock said, and then he buried his face in Jim’s ass. Jim gave a resounding shout when a hot, pointed tongue flickered insistently at the knot of muscle even as Spock’s hands gripped his asscheeks to hold him in place for the onslaught.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Jim bellowed. He ground his ass back into Spock’s face and shoved his own head further into the pillows. He twisted the sheets hard, and, hanging heavy and hot between his thighs, his cock throbbed and oozed dollops of pre-cum. Behind him, Spock grunted softly into his crack as he sucked at the rim of Jim’s asshole. Jim couldn’t bring himself to care about what kinds of undignified sounds he was making — Spock was engaging enthusiastically in Jim’s absolute most favorite activity _ever_ , and it wasn’t something he could simulate with a sex toy no matter which planet he trolled the porno shops of, and he hadn’t gotten his ass so well-licked in _forever_ and he really thought he might black out any second. “ _Spock!_ ”

Spock just hummed and pushed his face in deeper. The grip on his ass would bloom into bruises later, but all of Jim’s nerves lit with the pleasure of Spock’s tongue on his hole. Jim reached back and tangled Spock’s hair in his fingers to pull him even closer, to force Spock’s clever tongue further into his ass, but Spock was a cruel, maddening _bastard_ who refused to cooperate. Instead he pushed Jim’s cheeks apart and held fast, laving the flat of his tongue over Jim’s hole over and over, occasionally punctuating his ministrations by dipping the tip inward or sucking around the outside, but he never lingered. Jim felt his asshole slacken and wink in its greed.

“Please,” Jim found himself saying, again and again. He may have been whimpering, but really, no one could prove that. In his fists he bunched the sheets, and his dick was leaving trails of pre-cum all over the bed. “Spock, please.”

Spock’s head came up and he rested his chin lightly on Jim’s tailbone. He gave Jim’s ass a little slap before he said, “What is it, Jim?”

“If you don’t get in my ass right now I might actually die. So. Please.”

Spock hummed out a sound of disinterested consideration and Jim craned around to throw a stricken look in his direction. Behind him, Spock was fiddling with something and Jim couldn’t see anything but an imperious upswept eyebrow and the delicate point of an ear. Jim grunted in frustration and smothered his face back into the pillows.

Then, Spock’s hand came down quickly on his cheeks, first the right, then the left, fingertips grazing his sensitized hole. Jim gave a strangled shout into the pillow, and Spock began to lay light smacks on Jim’s asshole. Jim pushed his ass back into the contact and he felt sweat trickle down his neck from between his shoulder blades.

“You please me, Jim,” he heard Spock say, and then he felt Spock press _something_ solid and pliable and lubed up into his asshole — his anal balls, and the first slid in as if his ass were starving. Which it _was_. Jim reared up and bellowed, the sound echoing off the bulkheads. Spock groaned and rubbed his fingertips around the rim of his hole, bent to kiss around his crack and nip at the swells of his cheeks. He tugged lightly on the remaining ball, and Jim’s ass throbbed and lit at the sensation.

“Spock, fuck yes! Keep going, c’mon, c’mon, Spock, _please_.”

“You like this, Jim?”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re teasing me right now, Spock, you’re _demented_. Vulcans are supposed to be pacifists!”

Jim felt Spock lay his head against an asscheek with a contented little sigh. The first shadow of stubble that had appeared on his face now scratched at Jim’s ass and forced a moan out of him. Spock smacked him a few more times, sure to jostle the anal balls just to make Jim scream, and then he pushed the second one in and his longest finger followed, rooting around to rub along his rectal walls. Jim wailed.

“ _God_ , Spock, more, more, more,” he chanted. But Spock only removed his finger and stroked at Jim’s asscheeks, which must by now be an interesting shade of livid. “ _Spoooock_.”

“Tell me, Jim,” Spock said in a hatefully reasonable tone, “do you favor this apparatus for the sensation it provides going in or coming out?”

“Jesus _fuck_ , Spock.”

“You will find my stores of patience are practically limitless, Jim.”

“Oh my fucking God, fine! Fine! I like them coming out, okay? Fuck!”

Spock made a pleased sort of humming sound and tugged gently on the string until the second ball emerged from Jim’s asshole and Jim grunted out a loud guttural noise. “Yes,” Spock breathed, and he pulled again. Jim’s asshole winked out the first ball, and when it passed through the ring of muscle, Jim almost sobbed at the jolt of electricity that traveled up his spine. Then two of Spock’s long, beautiful fingers were lubed up and thrust up his ass, stretching the muscle with firm presses against the tight sleeve. Beyond the rush of blood in his ears and his own continuous moaning, Jim heard Spock’s breath come faster, paired with quiet little grunts that Jim was pretty sure he’d use for wank material the rest of his damn life. “I’m going to penetrate you now,” Spock said. He shoved Jim over so he lay on his back and knelt between Jim’s upraised knees.

Spock’s hair was mussed and his parted lips were pink, glistening and swollen. Jim cupped his face and pulled him down for drugging kisses, long passes of tongue and tongue, sloppy and wet, teeth nipping lips, sharing breath and moans. Jim felt drunk, felt like he could kiss Spock forever, _needed_ to, but Spock disengaged them and met Jim’s eyes. Spock’s were that deep, lighted brown that reminded Jim of caramelized sugar, sweet and gorgeous, and Jim’s own eyes fluttered shut, jaw slack. Spock stroked down Jim’s stomach, petting the trail of hair that followed down from his navel. He bent to suck the little hollow, and Jim tangled his fingers in the thick black hair with a gasp of his name.

Spock rose back up and slung one of Jim’s legs over his arm, knee in elbow, and steadied the tapered head of his cock against Jim’s asshole. He flicked his eyes up to Jim’s.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “Yeah, I want it. Want you, Spock.”

“Yes,” Spock said, and he pushed inside. Jim gasped and scrabbled at Spock’s biceps, eyes wide. The first segment of Spock’s cock was thicker than the anal balls, the delicious burn just shy of pain, and Jim felt tight but not quite full.

“More,” he stammered. Spock’s swallowed and pressed forward, his hand steady at the base of his cock, and then the second segment was in and Jim’s ass spasmed around it. Jim squeezed at Spock’s shoulders and demanded more. Spock shuddered and complied and Jim was full and stretched and the fit was tight and Spock was _inside him_. Jim threw his head back and shouted. Spock hiked Jim’s thighs up close to own body, stroking the golden hair there, and he drew back until the third segment of his cock was out again and Jim gave a tremulous wail. He pulled the second out, and the first, and then he thrust back in. Jim’s eyes crossed; each pass of Spock’s luscious, bulbed cock through the tight ring of his asshole sent sparks of ecstasy through his whole body.

“Tell me,” Spock panted. “Tell me how this pleases you.” He was moving fluidly now, Jim’s asshole fully accommodating, and Jim felt dizzy with lust and arousal, unable to keep his eyes open or focused. He was distantly aware that he was pleading, Spock’s name a benediction. “Tell me,” Spock said again.

“I love it!” Jim said. His fingers twisted too hard in Spock’s hair, but he didn’t seem to care. Jim finally clasped a hand to his own cock, choking it in a death grip that might give him a little relief. “Love your cock in me, s’perfect, Spock, fucking _perfect_ , oh God, it’s so good, you don’t even know, need you in me always, Spock, Spock, _fuck_.”

Spock growled then and pushed both of Jim’s legs up around his shoulders. He leaned forward so their chests were touching and Jim was bent almost in half as Spock thrust harder and faster. Jim’s vision fuzzed out completely as Spock hammered his prostate with Vulcan precision and massaged his taint at the same time. Jim jacked himself off in a punishing rhythm, and when Spock swooped in to take his mouth in a hard, possessive kiss, Jim choked around a silent cry, starbursts flashing behind his eyes, and he came explosively in the space between himself and Spock. His body convulsed in the aftershocks, and he heard himself beg for Spock to keep fucking him. Spock’s thrusts took on a hard, staccato rhythm, and with the grunt Spock issued and the flood of heat in his ass, Jim knew he’d come too. Spock pumped a mess of come into him and shook with the force of his orgasm before slumping down, head lolling in the hollow of Jim’s neck and shoulder. Jim’s legs splayed open around Spock’s hips, and Spock was a dead weight on him, heavier than anticipated. Jim bore it, though, and stroked through the fine perspiration that settled like delicate mist on Spock’s long back. Spock’s breath came hot and quick on Jim’s neck, and Jim occupied himself laying kisses on Spock’s crown. He could feel his come squelch in Spock’s chest hair. Spock’s cock hadn’t subsided, and Jim clenched his ass around the hot girth of it. He’d be ready to go again in a few minutes, and he thought Spock might be, too. Hoped. Lust licked through his balls and asshole at the thought.

“So I was thinking,” Jim said. Against him, Spock grunted. Jim smiled. “Maybe we could give Sulu a commendation?”


End file.
